Catfish
by MonPetitCoeur
Summary: Catfish AU. At the age of 25, Kurt Hummel finds himself living in Boston, working in a job he's not sure of, and living the life he'd never imagine himself to be in. The only solace he takes comfort in is his mysterious chat mate, whom he'd met at a Group Chatroom. His confidante for almost 3 years. No Facebook profile. No photos. No webcam. And now Kurt wants to meet him.
1. Prologue

Title: Catfish (Prologue)

Pairing: Kurtbastian; Mike/Quinn; Tina/OC; Rachel/Finn (past Klaine; Kadam)

Rating: By chapter (so-far PG)

Summary: _Catfish AU._ At the age of 25, Kurt Hummel finds himself living in Boston, working in a job he's not sure of, and living the life he'd never imagine himself to be in. The only solace he takes comfort in is his mysterious chat mate, whom he'd met at a Group Chatroom, and now has been his best friend and confidante for almost 3 years. No Facebook profile. No photos. No webcam.

And now Kurt wants to meet him.

A/N: The POV is here is actually from the camera. It's kind of hard to explain but in reference, I just kind of described what would the viewers see.

* * *

_'How are you feeling man?'_ The camera focused on the hunched figure seated on the passenger seat. The man's profile was gorgeous, nose perfectly shaped, paired with a sharp jaw, and eye color wherein the color of the sea and the sky were mixed in.

_'You look kind of pale-well, paler than usual'_, Sam joked, trying to lighten the mood.

The guy barked out a laugh. _'I'm sure anyone would be if they're about to meet someone who changed their life for the past 3 years.'_

_'True'_, Mike agreed, shifting a bit to get a better camera angle. _'I can't get the hang of this camera, shit.'_

_'Dude!' _Sam stared at him in disbelief. _'You're not supposed to curse on film!'_

_'Oh shit sorry.' _Mike snorted. _'Well, we can edit it out anyway. I'd love to be the guy who always get the *bleeps*'_

_'Way to ruin the mood guys'_, a drawling voice piped up from the backseat. The camera diverted from the guy in the passenger seat to the backseat. It focused on a petite woman with long, blonde, hair which was styled in a messy bun that day. Her liquid amber eyes gazing at the camera lens coyly. Lips curling into a smile, she let out a tinkling laugh.

_'Dude! Kurt should be in focus! Kurt, not Quinn'_ Sam chastised him for the second time. _'I really should've been the camera guy.'_

She pushed the camera away, forcing Mike to return the focus on Kurt. Kurt, who was now biting his nails and clearly contemplating whether or not this was a good idea. He sighed deeply, turning his gaze towards the window.

_'God'_, he muttered. _'I hated this place. A small part of me still does.'_ The camera zooms in a bit for effect. _'To think I'd come back to the place I've been trying to get out all my life, all for of one person.'_ He let out a bitter laugh. _'I'm not even sure if he's real. What if he's not?'_

A shuffling noise was heard, and then a hand appeared in the camera view. It was clearly Quinn's. She was caressing his back gently, trying to give him small comfort.

Sam sighed. The camera shifted to him, capturing his uneasy mannerisms of raking his hand through his hair. _'Do you still want to go through this dude? Because I'd totally understand if you don't.'_

A moment of silence passed, at least until the light sniffles died away. The camera panned back to Kurt, who at that moment, sat a bit straighter, shoulders squared, and head held high. He dabbed at his eyes carefully, and then he fixed his appearance using the rearview mirror.

_'Of course, I'd go through this. We did not drive out here for 3 hours for nothing.'_

Kurt finally unbuckled himself and then got out of the car. Sam quickly glanced back. _'Who's going to stay?'_

The view changed to Quinn. She raised her hand. _'I will. I won't turn the engine off, just in case something happens. I'll have my phone ready as well.'_

_'Thanks Quinn.'_

Sam got out first. And then the camera shot was directed to the floor, the filming a bit shaky due to movements being made. Once outside, suburban houses, cemented roads, clear skies, and rows of trees filled the shot. The pan zoomed out, trying to take everything in, soaking up the setting of the main event.

_'Mike, over here.'_

The shot diverted back to Sam and Kurt, who were already both in front of a three-storied house. It had an _old family generation_ feel to it, what with the cream colored walls, the majestic stone columns, and even the intricately main twin door entrance.

_'Woah'_, Mike whispered in awe.

_'I think I'm going to throw up'_, Kurt had his arm over his stomach, bending a bit. It was true. When the camera zoomed into Kurt's face, his complexion was slightly green. _'Oh my god.'_

Sam was visibly conflicted. _'I don't think they'd appreciate that dude. Do you want to sit down on the steps for a bit or something?'_ Crouching down to Kurt's level, he stroked his back in a comforting manner. _'Do you want a drink? I'm sure there are water bottles from the gas station we stopped by awhile ago...'_

Kurt sat down on one of the steps. Uncharacteristically, he hung his head low between his legs.

_'Shit. Kurt don't force yourself okay, we can always just come back'_, Mike told him.

_'No, no'_, he responded in a weak, muffled voice. _'Just...Just give me a second and I'll be fine.'_

Sam loudly sighed. _'Kurt.'_

Fully distracted with simultaneously encouraging whilst comforting Kurt, the trio has failed to notice the sound of the door being unlocked.

_'Guys'_, Mike hissed as the pair scrambled to get up.

Both doors opened wide, revealing a fancy interior that could clearly be spotted from the house designs of old Hollywood classic movies. Unfortunately, the camera instead focused on the person who opened the door.

Everybody held their breaths, not knowing how to fully react.

The camera caught all the subtle movements, from the small twitching movements of Sam's hands, as if he were itching to whisk Kurt away and protect him from that harsh reality, all the way to the visible closing off that was evident in Kurt's expression.

_'Kurt?'_

It was Kurt's online romance—the person who Kurt had talked every day with, who Kurt had grown to know intimately. It was the person, who despite their recent relationship, felt as if they knew each other for a lot longer than that.

It was the very person who changed Kurt's life.

_'What the hell?'_

Kurt shook his head. It wasn't the guy at all. It was a mistake.

He was catfished.


	2. Anticipation

Title: Catfish (01/?)

Pairing: Kurtbastian; Mike/Quinn; Tina/OC; Rachel/Finn (past Klaine; Kadam)

Rating: By chapter (so-far PG)

Summary: _Catfish AU._ At the age of 25, Kurt Hummel finds himself living in Boston, working in a job he's not sure of, and living the life he'd never imagine himself to be in. The only solace he takes comfort in is his mysterious chat mate, whom he'd met at a Group Chatroom, and now has been his best friend and confidante for almost 3 years. No Facebook profile. No photos. No webcam.

And now Kurt wants to meet him.

A/N: Idek man.

* * *

Kurt scraped the scraps of food off each plate to his own used plate and placed the other plates on top of each other. He proceeded to transfer the dinner leftovers into tupperwares and microwaveable containers to be heated for tomorrow night's meal. After a painful moment of restraining, his head reflexively jerked to the direction of the wall clock but his eyes refused to glance at the clock itself. He averted it instead to the piece of peeled paint next to it.

_'Damn it_', he thought. _'I have better self control than this_.'

"Kurt", a feeling of being stared at pierced through him, "are you okay man?"

The guy in question finally turned to look at his caller. Taking in his furrowed brows, and his slightly quizzical expression, Kurt sighed and continued clearing the table.

"I'm fine, Mike. Just a bit...impatient, I guess."

"Ah", Mike nodded in understanding. "We've all been there."

Tensing at the heavily implied statement, Kurt glanced back at him curiously. What did he mean by that? Did Mike know how he was feeling right now? Has he ever felt the slowly itching sensation that would creep under his skin as he watched time pass by? Has he secretly hoped that he could fast forward to the end of the day, the time his hands would grow sweaty in anticipation of what would happen?

Mike shrugged. Even in shrugging, he managed to do it gracefully. Kurt was slightly annoyed by this fact. How did he do that? Did all dance instructors possess that graceful gene that would make their actions seem so fluid and natural?

"You've been impatient all throughout dinner, kept glancing over the clock, drumming your fingers on the table, dazing off into space. I'm surprised you didn't burn the food while cooking it", Mike listed his observations. "Don't think I haven't heard your giggling and squealing each night."

Heat crept into his cheeks. Kurt had no idea how thin the walls were.

Mike raised his hands in surrender. "Wait, wait. No dude, it's totally fine with me okay? I'm just saying I've been there. When Tina and I used to date, I was a mess waiting for our nightly phone calls. I mean, you've been there too right? With Blaine." He grabbed the neatly stacked plates and loaded them unto the sink.

"It's my turn to do the dishes right?" Grabbing the yellow latex gloves, he turned the faucet on. "I'll also throw the garbage out tonight—"

"No, no. It's okay. I'll do it", Kurt amended. Mike was right. He had been watching the clock all the time that he had forgotten to do his half of the workload. "I need a breather anyway."

"Sure you won't be missing your mysterious night visitor?"

"Not until 09 anyway."

"Ooh lala", Mike teased. "It's totally like the adult slot in night time shows." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Are you sure you don't want me to leave-"

"Oh my god Mike! Stop it!" Kurt hit him on the shoulder. "We're not doing anything okay! We just...talk."

"On the phone?"

"Skype."

"How modern of you", Mike snorted. "Webcam?"

"Not that stage yet", Kurt admitted shyly. Tightly securing the garbage bag, he internally convinced himself to take the garbage out, and _then_ he could finally check the time. "Taking the garbage out now."

Mike was already rinsing the plates. "Bring your key with you or you gonna buzz in?"

"Depends. You gonna sleep in early?"

"No. Catching up with an episode of Catfish tonight with the guys." Mike sounded amused. "Apparently, Sam wanted to watch the whole series again because he had an online love interest."

Kurt shrugged into his jacket as he chuckled. "What about his girlfriend...uuh—"

"Ramona—"

"Yeah, Ramona? I thought they were..." Kurt was at a loss with words. Really, what was wrong with him? "...something. Or at least, according to him, a potential for something."

"Recently broke up because she got mad jealous of said online love interest", Mike answered, earning a pitying sound from Kurt. "It kind of seems to be a trend nowadays. This whole meeting people online business thing."

Kurt snorted. "It's 2019, Mike Chang. We could already go on _virtual_ dates. It's just making a comeback. Soon you'll have people sporting the John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John look again." Finally tying the laces of his boots, he grabbed the garbage bag and headed out.

"Buzzing in, okay."

"No earphones. Got it."

* * *

Out of all the places in the world, Kurt Hummel never thought he would find himself living in Boston.

After all, Kurt thought he would live and die in New York as a true blooded New Yorker he thought himself to be.

Which in reality, it would be one of the biggest incorrect assumptions about himself.

During his second year in NYADA, he found himself stuck in a plateau. He suddenly found himself not appreciating learning about the different angles of expressive emotion of Theater Acting, or how to easily shift from C scale to G scale without missing a beat, or even how to twirl a perfect pirouette and land in a split perfectly.

In short, he found himself stuck in a routine.

It was a routine that bore him, surprisingly.

This epiphany, after years of self-belief that New York was what he called as _'home',_ greatly depressed him. He refused to sing, to go out, or even to dress up other than his lounge clothes and his sweatpants, and constantly ate cheesecake and watched _When Harry Met Sally _repeatedly.

The last strike was when Kurt found himself ending a perfect and healthy relationship with Adam Crawford who had been nothing but nice and genial to him on his first day in NYADA.

Kurt ended up even more depressed. And after talking it all out with his dad, homesickness started seeping in.

Apparently, Santana was the first one to snap when she found Kurt curled up on the sofa, crying to John Mellencamp.

"Oh my god Hummel", she lashed out irritably. "Get the hell out of New York then. Drop out of NYADA. Move to another place. Visit Burt back in Lima or something. Just get the hell up and stop moping okay. Your tears aren't gonna get you anywhere. In fact, it'll just produce more wrinkles and you'll end up wasting a truckload worth of beauty products in that gay face of yours."

Rachel gladly intervened that it wasn't wise of Kurt to suddenly move out since he wasn't in a good condition to do so. But she gladly supported him of changing career paths, and considered it wise to find something you truly want to do before resigning yourself to a passionless life.

A week later, Kurt found himself enrolled in New York University in a Social Science course. To be more specific, he chose Behavioral Science. After completing his undergraduate studies, he continued to graduate school and took a Master's Degree in Industrial-Organization Psychology and a side job at where Isabelle gladly welcomed him with open arms.

A total of five years and three months later, he found himself on a trip to Boston, carrying nothing but his luggage and his aspiration to find himself before he ends up wasting his life. He didn't know why he chose Boston though. It could have been San Francisco, or Seattle, or Philadelphia, or even Denver, but there was something about Boston, both big and little at once, that attracted him.

He got in contact with Blaine, during one of their late night conversations which led him telling about everything in the first place, that Mike was also in Boston who was also looking for a good apartment in a decent neighborhood with a roommate, preferably, one that he knew.

Kurt swallowed his fears and stubbornly ignored the anxiousness in his stomach. He bravely met up with Mike, who aside from sporting a handsome haircut, hadn't changed at all. The pair agreed that the neighborhoods to check out were only limited between Brighton and Jamaica Plains.

Even though they were already in Boston, momentarily staying at Mike's friend's place, Kurt Hummel _still_ wasn't sure why he chose Boston, of all places.

Not to mention, why was it that they chose one of the hipster types of neighborhoods? Quite diverse with its Latin, African, and Asian community (hence the reason why Mike instantly chose it), LGBT friendly, lots of hole in the walls shops and cafes, and the tasteful graffiti, and scattered pieces of street art found on the streets were the highlights of the cozy yet affordable Jamaican Plains neighborhood. There were a lot of bus terminals and trains easily routing to downtown which made it accessible to work and of course, shopping centers.

They didn't need to check out Brighton anymore.

Because finding a decent 2-bedroom apartment in a cozy neighborhood, and starting an unsure but exciting new life here in Boston with an old friend sounds a perfect beginning to a new chapter to him.

Well, Kurt Hummel had a feeling why he chose Boston.

It was a place where he would find himself.

* * *

Kurt mentally sighed as he properly threw the garbage down the chute. Honestly, it didn't take five seconds in doing the actual deed. The walking down the flight of stairs from the third floor was the one that took up the time. Instinctively, his hand dug into his pocket for his phone.

"What—where's my...?" After a moment of double checking in all his clothes pockets (there were a lot), Kurt remembered that he had placed it inside the computer desk drawer in the foyer to prevent himself from glancing at the time too much. "Oh my god you are a dork Kurt Hummel. Get your act together", he sighed exasperatedly as he buried his face in his hands.

The man was head over heels in love.

Shaking his head, Kurt patted his cheeks to will the blush away. He didn't want his roommate enough ammunition to prove that he was doing unspeakable things on his computer with another person each night.

Pressing the button shortly, he waited for a few seconds before hearing a loud footsteps rush towards the door.

"What? _What?_ How—wait wait wait, dude I can't understand you", Mike shouted into his phone as he threw the door open. Without turning back, he rushed back to the living room.

Kurt shrugged off his coat and carefully laid it unto the armrest. "What's going on?" He asked as his eyes scanned the room, taking note of the laid out laptop running one of the Catfish episodes. He sat down at the edge of the sofa and began to unlace his boots.

"Major update with Ramona: Sam thinks she personally discovered his mysterious online love mate!" Mike grinned excitedly, chinky eyes sparkling with mirth. "Oh man, this is like a Catfish episode itself!"

_'Not cool man!'_ Sam's booming voice filled the background.

_'Totally with Sam on this one, Mike you're not cool_', a familiar voice chimed in the conversation.

"Blaine?" Kurt mouthed at Mike. The other nodded absentmindedly before focusing his attention back to the series. He placed his phone down by the coffee table.

"You're on loudspeak dudes. Also, Kurt's here."

"Hi guys!" Kurt waved towards the direction of the phone before remembering that there was no way they could see him. It was a good thing Mike's attention was completely absorbed that he missed the slip up.

_'Hey Kurt!'_ Kurt could hear the grin in Sam's voice.

_'Kurt! Hey! I thought you were working late tonight?'_ Blaine's voice still filled him with warmth, despite the fact that their relationship ended four years ago.

"Oh um, they let me take home the files instead", Kurt gestured towards the stack of folders piled up on his desk in the foyer. "I'll start working on them tonight."

Mike snorted. "More like because Kurt wouldn't want to miss his internet date."

A pause. And then—

_'Wait what? What internet date?'_ Blaine's high-pitched voice shouted. _'Why aren't you telling me anything? I thought I was your number one go-to with the guys!'_

_'You never tell me anything Kurt—wait Blaine's number one? What about me? What about those times we shared together when we used to live in the same roof? Kurt, didn't any of those mean anything to you? Kurt dammit answer me!'_

Ignoring the scandalous yet loud voices coming from the phone, Kurt sent Mike a warning look which had him raising his hands in defense and bowing his head in apology.

"Okay guys-guys, shut up. Kurt's going to kill me. Are we watching or are we watching? Wait. Nope. Stop. Thought so. Okay, what episode are we watching tonight?"

_'The one with the model.'_

_'Can we watch American Horror Story: Asylum after?'_

And with that, Kurt picked up his coat and his boots and proceeded to his room.

Originally, the 2-bedroom apartment might be decent in size, with a plus of a foyer which had been converted to Kurt's office. But the sizes of the bedrooms were not proportionally distributed. The main bedroom had a small walk-in closet, which was larger in size. And the second bedroom, or the guest bedroom, was smaller in comparison since it was originally the extension of the main bedroom but was altered at the last minute due to some design changes. Mike, ever the gentleman, knew how important the concept of space (not to mention the walk-in closet) was to Kurt. So instead, he got the smaller room.

And now three years later, Kurt was proud of the original color palette theme he chose for his room. Every small knick knack and eclectic furniture was patiently and painstakingly acquired in flea markets and end-of-the-year sales.

Neatly, he hung up his coat and put away his boots. Slightly massaging the stiffness of his neck, he considered on his next action. Should he start on the files right away? There were a lot of applications that were to be reviewed in this year's batch than the previous ones. Or instead of delving into the world of stress and paperwork, should he take a long relaxing bath, change into his lounge clothes, and start on his skin regime early?

Kurt sighed.

The paper works were far more too important. _But so was his health_.

So, compromise.

He decided to scan through as much paperwork as possible. And then, after an hour or two, he'd take his full on-break pampering himself and just unwinding from this day's stress.

Happy with his decisions, he changed into something more comfortable before heading out.

"I'll be making tea. Want anything?" Kurt peered through the corner of the living room.

His roommate was seriously focused on the show, jotting down notes and then comparing it with the other two.

_'I'll have a PB & J sandwich. I miss your PB&J sandwich_', Sam sadly commented.

_'I have popcorn already, thanks though'_, Blaine responded.

Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Popcorn?" Mike said hopefully.

Pouting, Kurt shook his head. "We're on our last stash."

Letting out an agonized sound of defeat, Mike childishly planked down the floor. "Kuuuuurt", he called out, but it was muffled by the orange carpet that it came out as _'Muuuuuuurt'_ instead.

"Fine, I'll just stop by the grocery tomorrow after work or something", Kurt sighed as he walked towards the kitchen, which was across their main door in the apartment.

"Yay! Kurt you're the best! Don't worry, I won't team with the guys to ask Artie to find out who's this dude you're chatting with", Mike promised as he turned his attention back to the series, which was now Doctor Who, apparently.

After serving Mike his freshly microwaved cheese flavored popcorn, Kurt cradled his warm cup against his chest as he walked across the room and into the foyer.

"Mike, kindly lower the volume please?"

"Oh sure, dude."

He placed the mug down his desk carefully, making sure that the folders were on the other side of the desk. Opening the first drawer, he got out his glasses and perched them on his nose. He heard his phone chime and he got that out too.

_'3 missed calls. 8 messages.'_

After skimming his call logs (two were from Rachel, one from Adam), and reading the contents of his messages (five were from Rachel, three were work related), finally, _finally_, he allowed himself to look at the time.

_07: 23 PM_.

Kurt smiled as he stretched his arms over his head.

"Okay, just less than two hours left. We can do this."

* * *

A/N: Sebastian next! :3 Any ideas for a chatname?

Kurt and Mike's apartment: post/48694062659


	3. Budapest

Title: Catfish (02/?)

Pairing: Kurtbastian; Mike/Quinn; Tina/OC; Rachel/Finn (past Klaine; Kadam)

Rating: By chapter (so-far PG)

Wordcount: (this chapter) 3,620

Summary: _Catfish AU._ At the age of 25, Kurt Hummel finds himself living in Boston, working in a job he's not sure of, and living the life he'd never imagine himself to be in. The only solace he takes comfort in is his mysterious chat mate, whom he'd met at a Group Chatroom, and now has been his best friend and confidante for almost 3 years. No Facebook profile. No photos. No webcam.

And now Kurt wants to meet him.

A/N: Finally. Backgrounds established. Story begins in next chapter!

**SEBASTIAN'S APARTMENT: ** 2012/12/15/eclectic-apartment-in-budapest/

* * *

_'...the case has been filed under these conditions as stated in Section IV...'_

Tired.

Tired. Tired. Tired.

Sebastian sighed.

Exhaustion had steadily crept into his system as he forced himself to read through the case files of his latest pro bono settlement. It had been a rough day at the office. The copy machines were jammed and all the necessary paperwork was specifically needed for the deadline. And to think that he was used to the pressures of his job, even after working for a total of 3 years.

His eyes slipped closed for a moment.

"Just for a second", he muttered to himself. "I'll just...for...a second..."

* * *

Getting into Harvard and that entire prep university package had its perks.

Sure there was the (admittedly classy) frat parties filled with booze and snotty rich kids showing off with their sweet sixteen birthday presents, and not to mention the _'My daddy owns'_ contest. The whole _'other fishes in the sea'_ analogy was definitely a big improvement. Most of the guys studying in Hardvard either looked like Abercrombie models or was ridiculously rich as the brats being shown in MTV Cribs.

Confidently, he knew that he was overqualified for both categories.

And in being so, it made all the cat-and-mouse game in that new _sea_ of his deliberately better. The flirting and the chasing games were more interesting, and the sex was surely _definitely_ a 110% improvement.

Oddly enough, even with the biggest distractions walking around in campus, Sebastian enjoyed his classes. He enjoyed the debates, even going so far as to join one of the debate teams. He picked up lacrosse and fencing in his free time. Their lacrosse team competed in one of the national colleges and won as the champion for that season. Writing reaction papers, theses, and analyses were completely stimulating and thought-provoking for him, so he was motivated (despite the usual hangovers after a frat party) to finish them.

Without knowing it, as the semesters went by, he found himself immersing more and more in his studies, and less club-hopping or even pot smoking.

And _oddly enough_, Sebastian didn't mind it at all.

It didn't bother him that he was, as a certain cat-loving splenda-hating ex-Warbler had said, that indeed, Sebastian Smythe was _'growing up'._

He just shrugged it off.

He did not care for his so-called _reputation_. After all, he could get the respect that he wanted even without his public image. He did not care about seeming to be obediently following his father's wishes. Why would he throw away the things he was sincerely enjoying just because of social circle gossip? His goal in life was to live pleasurably, as hedonistic yet simple as that sounds.

The only thing he hated about college was the pressure.

It wasn't even about the academic pressure. Deep down, it was clear that out of all the students in their class, there were only two or three people who he had to worry about when it came to class ranking. What he hated that most was _social _pressure. And this wasn't peer pressure either.

_Social _pressure, a term he himself coined, pertains to the expectations of certain social hierarchies and of school authorities that would undoubtedly affect their future. At most times, the expectations were completely ridiculous, not to mention paradoxical. _Get married. Graduate early. Make friends. But don't trust anyone. Still find the _right_ friends; they'd be great connections someday. Go to this department. Start low to seem humble. But quickly climb the social ladder. _

All the other students knew it too. The things that happen behind closed doors. It was a taboo subject, yet at the same time, it was completely common knowledge.

They were expected to beautifully accomplish their academic studies while at the same time invest in connections that would soon become their allies in the future.

The traditional expectation had been following him wherever he went.

And when it started to get suffocating, Sebastian would act out. He would be a Grade A doucehbag to most people. He would either ignore or lash out to people he dislikes. And finally, he would just close off and instead, do what he wants.

Sebastian hated being told what had to be done after all.

* * *

Someone softly tapped his head with a plastic folder.

"Sebastian", a gruff male voice called out.

Blearily, Sebastian opened his heavy eyelids. His eyes, clearly bloodshot, tiredly stared at the tall figure in front of him. He tried to school his face into a professional expression. But who was he kidding? He was even too tired to actually _care_.

"Ah, Kristóf", he rubbed his eyes. "Sorry, I wasn't...I just rested my eyes for a bit", he sighed. Internally, he tried to remember if Kristóf understood a little bit of English.

Broad shoulder slightly shaking, Kristóf let out a laugh, which was clearly more of a deep rumble from his chest. "Kölyök", he called him.

In the beginning, Sebastian was slightly irritated to learn that he had been calling him as _'kid'_. But now, he understood that it was more of an endearment and less of an insult.

"Meg kell egy kis pihenés, kölyök." (_You should get some rest, kid._)

Sebastian could only nod in reply. He grabbed his highlighter and proceeded to grab another folder from the neatly stacked pile next to him. "After I finish this", he promised.

Kristóf could only shake his head as he grabbed his jacket from the cubicle next to Sebastian's. He ran his hand through his blond hair and then shrugged into his jacket. After grabbing the necessary paperwork he would surely be going over that night, he paused yet again.

"Hey uuh...Kölyök?" Sebastian's head absentmindedly turned towards his direction. "Akarsz menni inni rendelje meg?" (_Do you want to go drink with us?)_

Sebastian considered this. It would be a dinner and strategy planning for the next mock trial rolled into one kind of drinking. But then he glanced at the endless stack next to him and sighed. "Esetleg legközelebb." (_Maybe next time._) He sincerely looked apologetic. After all, Kristóf's friends were really..._interesting_.

"Nagyon szeretnék hogy csak rendesen enni, majd aludni ma éjjel." (_I really just want to eat and sleep tonight_.)

Kristóf nodded understandingly. "Lehet, hogy rohadt okos abban, amit csinálsz, de még mindig, te egy ember", he warned. (_You may be damn clever in what you do, but you're still a human being_).

Picking up half of Sebastian's pile, he neatly inserted the files into his bag. "Megyek, mint ezek a jelentések első dolog a reggel." (_I'll go over these reports first thing in the morning._)

_'God'_, Sebastian silently cried in joy. He could totally kiss him right now. But he'd doubt that no matter how kind Kristóf was, he was sure that his fiancée would undoubtedly kick him in the ass. "Köszönöm." (_Thank you.)_

"No problem", Kristófgrinned. "Now, ne túlmunka magad", he winked as he exited the room. (_Don't overwork yourself._)

Sebastian raised his hand to wave back and continued reading for half an hour. Glancing at his watch, he rubbed his face tiredly.

"Fuck this", he sighed. Impatiently, he crammed whatever folder he could find in his reach into his bag.

He really wanted to go home.

* * *

Sebastian decided that he was a lot like Budapest.

It was quiet. But it still had life in its own unique way. It doesn't like to stir up attention. It would rather that attention come to it. With its old structures, gray clouds, and stoned pavements, it was a mixture between of the archaic and of the modern.

It was also misunderstood most of the time. Misinformed, judged before one would actually experience its wonder, Budapest was well-known, but it wasn't really well-known _enough_. Not in the sense that it matters.

And it was in those instances that Sebastian would feel warmth settle into his body as he walked around the city. The people weren't bad as well. They were surely a hell lot of smarter, and not to mention more open-minded, back in Lima. They were a bit more reserved than the French (based from his short stay in France). And they were less annoying than the people in New York. He noticed that crime rates were low and that generally, people could safely walk alone at night.

He bought a cup of warm coffee from the stall and settled down on a park bench. Shivering slightly from the warmth in his stomach, he placed the Styrofoam cup against his cheek, silently relishing its hotness.

At first, he was puzzled as to why his Father would choose for him to complete his internship and his studies at a Firm in Budapest, when he could've done easily so back in New York? And there were a lot of notable law firms that were known even in other countries.

But as he met his boss, the Senior Partner that had taken him under his wing, he finally connected all the pieces together.

"You must be Sebastian", the broad figured man said in an accent.

Surprised, Sebastian asked. "You're British?"

The man chuckled. "Ah, yes. It doesn't mean that I work in a Hungarian firm that I should be also of Hungarian descent you know." His lips curled in amusement. "I was originally in the London branch, but then I was transferred here and they offered me my name on my door. Who wouldn't want that really? Their name on their door?"

They shook hands genially. "Let's talk about this more in my office", he grinned. That particular grin of his gave off a nostalgic vibe. It was as if Sebastian has seen him somewhere before.

There was a faculty staff who was busy painting what seemed to be letters on the glass door. The blond man proudly stared at the process as they both went in.

The office itself was huge. It had high ceilings and large windows with a big mahogany desk in the middle. Cabinets filled with what seemed to be book collections and portraits stood on the side of the room. There was a tiny lounge area, a black leather sofa with an oval shaped glass coffee table, which served to be the usual meeting spot of this person—

Wait, who was he?

"Excuse me, sir", he politely called out. "It seems to me as it's unfair."

"Unfair?" The man asked, bewildered. "What do you mean?"

"Well, it seems as if you know a lot about me. And I don't even know the name of the person I'm going to be working for."

A gleeful laugh came out from the man's mouth. Cautiously, he set down the glass pitcher of whisky and formally turned to Sebastian. "Apologies. That was rather rude of me."

"Not at all, that was just you wanting to break the British stereotype."

Another deep, rumbling laugh. "Really, Sebastian. You may be the splitting image of your father but you sure didn't inherit his dry sense of humor!"

Woah. Woah. Woah.

Wait, what?

_He knew his father?_

Aware of the agape expression Sebastian was sporting, the man gestured for him to sit down on the sofa. He sat on the single leather chair adjacent to the sofa.

"Ah, yes. I know your Dad", he continued casually. "Greg and I went way back when we were both attending the god awful stuffy prep school."

_Dalton? They...His Dad...Dalton?_

"What?" Sebastian dumbly blurted out.

"I'm Alan England", the man introduced himself, "your godfather."

* * *

Sebastian sighed as he got out of the cab.

It was dark outside. Hugging himself, he walked quickly to get out from the cold. It only made him miserable. Spotting the old, slightly rundown building, he quickened his pace some more, his heart full with the thought of home.

Upon entering the apartment building, he was greeted by the smiling face of Nikola, the only receptionist of that time shift.

"Jó estét, Nikola", Sebastian greeted him as he grabbed his key to unlock his mailbox.

Blue eyes twinkling with amusement, Nikola nodded in acknowledgement. "Jó estét, uram." (_Good evening, sir._)

"Uram, egy kisasszony Tina Cohen-Chang látogatott ma délután", Nikola reported. (_Sir, a Miss Tina Cohen-Chang visited this afternoon_.)

Sebastian hit his head repeatedly against the mailbox. He let out a dying whale noise.

"Zavaró nő", he muttered as he rested his head against it for a moment. (_Troublesome woman_.) "Vajon ő dobja el en ruháimat?" (_Did she throw away my clothes?_)

Nikola tried to hold back his amusement. "Nem, uram." (No, sir.)

Scanning through the label of the envelopes, Sebastian thought of all the plausible reasons as to why _that_ woman would visit him. "Vajon ő próbálja meg elégetni en lakásom?" (_Did she try to burn my apartment?_)

Snorting, Nikola shook his head. Sebastian shot him an exasperated look.

The whole apartment staff knew what a whirlwind it was when a certain Asian friend of his (the _female_ one, not Wes) visited him. And by _visit_, what she actually meant was _'ransack said apartment when owner was at work_'.

"Nem, uram."

Sebastian raised an eyebrow at the tone of his voice. '_Are you actually disappointed at this circumstance?' _His eyes seemed to say.

Shaking his head in response, Nikola glanced over at a certain message that was scribbled in the log book. "Ő gondolt vesz több mint a lakás, és kemping amíg Ön hazaért." (_She was thinking of taking over the apartment and camping, until you got home._)

A tired laughter spilled from Sebastian. "Hála Istennek, hogy nem." (_Thank God, she didn't._)

"Hagyott neked egy levelet. " (_She left you a note._)

Stuffing the mail inside his suit jacket, he raised a hand in greeting as he pressed up button in the elevator.

As the elevator doors opened, Nikola greeted Sebastian another good night.

"Soha nem kellett volna adott neki én kulcsot", Sebastian said in response. (_I should never have given her my keys._)

* * *

There were a lot of unexpected happenings in his life that Sebastian would never admit to anyone as happening. He would rather tell them that someone he was forced to do it, or said person has forced him/herself into his life and that he had no _voluntary_ involvement in any of it.

First there was the rather embarrassing (and totally humiliating) tiff between painting himself as the villain with the New Directions, and accidentally sending one of the legendary _ex_-Warblers to the hospital. He was immediately impeached from the position of Captain. Then there was the rather embarrassing period of sleeping with a (still _undetermined_) straight guy. It was none other than the newly voted Captain of their team, Hunter Clarington. They were also roommates. So both opportunities worked out for the both of them. Hunter was getting laid. And Sebastian still got solos _and_ was still getting laid as well.

In college, there was a mortifying alcohol-induced surprise of sleeping with a girl he barely knew during one of their frat parties. But other than that, college was a smooth road. He also somehow found himself getting messages from the _least_ people he would've expected to be keeping in touch with. There was Blaine (who was as whiny and needy as _ever_), then there was Wes (mainly for old Warbler updates), and Nick, and oddly enough, that annoying midget loudmouth from the New Directions. How she got his e-mail, he'd never know.

Though to be on the safe side, he forwarded all her e-mails (which mostly contained links to her YouTube account and party invitations with what looked like to be drag queens) to his Spam folder.

But if there was one thing that surprised him the most, it was forming bonds with a certain ombre-haired, Goth-loving, Asian soprano.

* * *

Light flooded the room as he _finally_ entered his apartment.

He dropped his keys unto the top of the hallway drawer. Shrugging off his coat, he opened the closet door and haphazardly tossed it unto the coat hanger.

Walking further the hallway, he turned left and automatically switched on the floor lamp. He tossed his briefcase unto the metal chaise lounge. Impatiently, he loosened his necktie before passing it over his head and then draped it unto the sofa.

Walking over the sleek black modern fireplace, he fumbled for the switches on its side to make it automatic, since he would kill himself for accidentally setting his place on fire. Briefly, he entertained the thought of Tina laughing her ass off if it ever did happen. Finally satisfied at the warmth radiating from the small fire, he padded to the kitchen. Grabbing a plate, a fork, and a wine glass, he placed all dinnerware unto a circular tray.

As if on cue, his stomach growled. Loudly.

"Fuck." Were there available take-out deliveries at this time? He glanced at his watch.

_02: 04 AM_.

"Fuck", his stomach growled again. Sebastian passed a hand over his face. When was the last time he went to the grocery? When was the last time he ever cooked or ate a homemade meal? Irritated at himself, he forcefully opened his refrigerator.

A surprised sound left him as he glanced at the _fully stocked_ refrigerator. There were even meat and microwave meals in the freezer! A dozen eggs filled the egg tray, fresh vegetables and fruits were found in the lower compartment, _and_ there was even a carton of milk.

"Bless her so fucking much", Sebastian muttered gratefully. Scanning the available foods, he figured that it would be too troublesome to even attempt to _cook_ at this hour. A Tupperware with a post-it placed next to the canned cherries caught his attention.

_'Take me out to lunch, Smythe. We'll call it even. xx'_

Sebastian smiled.

He was _so_ going to take her to that fancy restaurant he caught Tina talking about multiple times.

Opening the Tupperware, he realized that it was pasta with meatballs. Feeling himself already salivating, he hastily transferred it to a microwaveable plate. After setting the timer, Sebastian picked his wine glass and walked towards his wine rack.

Settling for red wine, _'just a bit, just to unwind'_ he reasoned, he grabbed the bottle and placed both unto the small coffee table in front of the sofa.

Hearing the beep, Sebastian returned to the kitchen and removed the plate, minding the hotness of the plate. Dumping it on the tray, he carried it to back to the living room and placed it on the same coffee table with the glass of wine.

Checking the time, he figured that he had about...35 minutes left before his favorite part of the day.

Ignoring the insistent grumbling of his stomach, Sebastian toed off his shoes and socks as he silently made his way over to his mini-office by the metal chaise lounge. It was right next to the sliding doors which led to the bedroom.

Kicking his shoes to the side, as soon as he got his hands on his laptop, he jogged back to the living room and turned it on, letting himself eat as soon as it whirred to life.

"I want to sleep", he told himself. "But I'm so fucking hungry. But I want to shower."

Lying down the carpet, Sebastian slid down a few inches, and then used his foot to grab the handle of the briefcase on the metal chaise lounge. Even as if was berating himself for looking like a complete idiot in his _own_ house, he continued dragging it until it was within reach.

Sneaking another mouthful of pasta and a whole meatball, he opened the case and then scanned for the appropriate folders he needed to finish reading that night.

"Where the fuck did I place my highlighter?"

He took a sip as he single-handedly rummaged his briefcase. Letting out a triumph sound as he got it, he uncapped it using his mouth and grabbed a folder with the intention of following his goal.

Having quickly finished the pasta plate, he entertained the idea of having a quick shower. After all, he had around 13 minutes left.

Tossing the finished folder on the other coffee table, Sebastian stood up and stretched. He was about to head to the bathroom when a familiar buzz came from his computer.

Under the _'Recent'_ column of his Skype messenger, there was a familiar username with a picture of an adorable duck eating a cheesecake as the icon.

**_'tinydanceer _****is now online.'**

Immediately, Sebastian sat back down.

His lips unknowingly turned into a fond smile.

* * *

A/N: :3 You know what happens next!


	4. Tiny Dancer

Title: Catfish (03/?)

Pairing: Kurtbastian; Mike/Quinn; Tina/OC; Rachel/Finn (past Klaine; Kadam)

Rating: By chapter (so-far PG)

Summary: _Catfish AU._ At the age of 25, Kurt Hummel finds himself living in Boston, working in a job he's not sure of, and living the life he'd never imagine himself to be in. The only solace he takes comfort in is his mysterious chat mate, whom he'd met at a Group Chatroom, and now has been his best friend and confidante for almost 3 years. No Facebook profile. No photos. No webcam.

And now Kurt wants to meet him.

A/N: Okay! Here we go. I hope you guys could get along with the _**alternate**_ POV change. Other than that, _enjoy_.

So it'll be like this:

1st POV: Kurt and then alternate with Sebastian (so Kurt-Sebastian-Kurt-Sebastian) etc.

2nd POV: chat!

P.S.S.: I made a mistake in the time conversion. So I changed things up a bit. Instead of beginning at 11 pm, they start at around 09 pm okay? Okay. Thanks! And sorry!

* * *

He had _13 minutes and 28 seconds_ left to be exact.

He was _incredibly_ close to achieving his newly improved self-control. And not to mention boosting his patience meter. That was sure to be needed when it came to dealing with grouchy clients on a Monday morning.

So_ so_ close.

And yet he faltered.

In result, he failed.

Kurt Hummel failed to keep his resolve by not logging in _earlier_ than the expected time. On one hand, it seemed to him that it should be some sort of reward. After all, he did his household chores, his homework (which he finished with utmost concentration), and even babysat his 26 year-old roommate. He deserved to do something he wanted, right?

_But_ on the other hand, what if _he_ (Mr. Mysterious) was doing something important and he interrupted him? What if, by going online early, he was pressuring for the other to go online early too? What if he made his cyber friend _guilty_ for making him wait that he'd be earlier than him the next time therefore making Kurt _guilty_ in return? And as a result, they'd have to spend most of their free time rushing to finish whatever agenda they had just so they could go online first than the other? What if it turned into a competition and one would say something that would go too far? What if because of _that_ ridiculous tiff, neither one of them would be up to talk to each other anymore?

What if—

_'__**i3philcollins:**__ hey!'_

Kurt grinned.

_'Oh never mind_._'_

* * *

_**i3philcollins: **__hey!_

_**tinydanceer: **__'"i3philcoollins"? really? *snorts*_

_**tinydanceer: **__collins*_

_**tinydanceer:**__ and hi! :)_

_**tinydanceer: **__okay. im ranting now. that's kind of really embarrassing for me._

_**tinydanceer:**__ im not spamming you though! really. or so._

_**tinydanceer: **__i was just kind maybe sorta really excited and looking forward to this! _

_Last Message was received on 09/09/19 at 08: 56: 03 pm_

_**tinydanceer: **__umm...hello?_

* * *

Unconsciously, Sebastian was staring at his screen while grinning so wide his jaw began to hurt. It surprised him that his jaw hurting would result from other than the usual causes: a punch to the jaw, or a blowjob.

He shook his head and sat back down, Indian sit styled, and all thoughts of changing clothes and the comforting heat of his shower was forgotten.

Shoving the important folders related to the case to one side, he grabbed his laptop and then moved to the sofa.

Scanning the quickly appearing messages, he let out an amused chuckled. "You are fucking adorable", he grinned. Balancing the laptop on his left thigh, he leaned forward and grabbed the wine bottle and the glass with one hand.

He was pouring himself another glass when he heard a familiar sound.

_'__**tinydanceer**__: oohhh...did i scare you off right now? i promise i don't bite. ;)'_

A warm feeling settled in his stomach. It was a funny sensation. Clearly, something he wasn't used to.

Maybe it was the pasta with meatballs that Tina cooked for him.

_'__**tinydanceer: **__:( :( :('_

"Oh shit, right", Sebastian almost spilled the wine unto his screen in his haste to reply.

* * *

_**i3philcollins: **__hi back! :) :) :)_

_**i3philcollins: **__sorry if i wasnt replying. i was thinking of showering and then you showed _

_**i3philcollins: **__up and showrering doesnt seem important_

_**i3philcollins: **__anymore :) :) :) :)_

_**tinydanceer: **__awwww :D_

_**i3philcollins: **__id pick u over showering any time babe :x _

_**i3philcollins: **__ikr this is my favorite part of the_

_**3philcollins: **__day! 3 the best part is comign home to talk to you (heart)_

_**tinydanceer: **__awwwww :D well arent you a smooth talker? (giggle)_

_**i3philcollins: **__just telling the truth babe :x_

_**i3philcollins: **__and more importantly we_

_**i3philcollins: **__should talk about your issue with phil collins_

_**tinydanceer: **__i dont have any issues with him im just surprised_

_**i3philcollins: **__says tiny dancer_

_**tinydanceer: **__meaaan :p plus, elton john's really cool you know_

_**i3philcollins: **__i know. :D phil collins just way cooler._

_**tinydanceer: **__whatever you say_

_**i3philcollins: **__:D_

_**tinydanceer: **__:)_

_**tinydanceer: **__i miss you. :)_

_**i3philcollins: **__i miss you more. :_

_**tinydanceer: **__:" :" :" :" :" :"_

_**i3philcollins: **__:* :* _

_**tinydanceer: **__oh my. :"_

_**i3philcollins: **__whaaaaat? :( no kisses yet?_

_**tinydanceer: **__not until the second date._

_**i3philcollins: **__:( :( /3_

_**i3philcollins: **__you do realize we've been on like 1000000000 dates now right?_

_**tinydanceer: **__i think you're just sleepy dum-dum_

_**tinydanceer: **__what time is it there anyway?_

_**i3philcollins**_**:** _around 3 am_

* * *

"Oh shit", Kurt slapped his forehead. "Oh fuck, right. I forgot." He did a quick mental time conversion of the difference between Boston and Budapest.

"It is 09 PM over here and 3 AM over there which means", he glanced at his desk clock, "he's 6 hours advanced than I am."

A hollow feeling settled as a heavy weight on his shoulders. There was no other word for it. He was guilty. He was being selfish. He only thought of his _own_ excitement to see him. And Kurt had been insisting that they meet this late because the company he was working for had yet another semestral job rotation and he was tasked to be part of the team of reviewing and assigning the employees from the divisions included.

But _3 AM_?

Not to mention the stress from the work _he_ might have had...

Was he sleeping well? Was he even eating properly? He spoke something about wanting to shower. And Kurt, who was fully familiar with the darkness that was commonly known as _paperwork_, should understand the confusion of which necessity to satisfy first.

_'__**i3philcollins: **__you're thinking loudly. i can hear it.'_

Kurt glanced at the clock.

He bit his lip.

* * *

_**i3philcollins: **__i'm fine you know. my friend left me some food_

_**i3philcollins: **__it was spaghetti with meatballs yum_

_**tinydanceer: **__i think it's time for you to go to sleep_

_**i3philcollins: **__i don't want to mom :p_

_**tinydanceer: **__no im serious here. you should get some sleep_

_**tinydanceer: **__instead of staying up and talking to me_

* * *

Sebastian felt his hackles rise.

Maybe it was the fact that he was 3 AM. Or maybe it was the fact that he had yet another long day tomorrow—_later—_which he was _so_ not looking forward to. Maybe it was the fact that he relied on this—this—nameless person to keep his secrets and actually _be_ the haven he sought for in a person.

Because whoever this person was, to Sebastian, this person might not be real.

He was talking to an idea. A form of a mirage during his insomnia-riddled nights and stressed-filled days, he was talking to a person who he would be worrying about if he _actually_ exists.

And for that _idea_, for his sanctuary to tell him what to do-

No. Just...no.

His fingers were rapidly blurting out the thoughts he was trying to bury in his head.

* * *

_**i3philcollins: **__dont fucking tell me what to do man_

_**i3philcollins: **__im fucking too old for a fucking babysitter_

_Last Message was received on 09/10/19 on 09: 19: 38 PM_

_**i3philcollins: **__shit...come on K..._

_Last Message was received on 09/10/19 on 09: 24: 38 PM_

* * *

Kurt froze in his seat, hands poised to type out a response.

But his eyes were glued to the admittedly rather harsh clipped retorts to him.

He knew "_Nate_" had some tendency to lash out whenever he wasn't in the right mood. It was safe to say that their founding...whatever of a relationship this was _was_ founded on that tendency. He could par with the biting words the other says. He could dodge the bullets and heal the shallow cuts from such words.

But then again, he had his _own_ bad days.

"Kurt?" A voice called out from the dark living room. Kurt hadn't even noticed that Mike was done with his _'Therapeutic-Monday-Session'_ with the guys.

Opening his mouth the speak, he noticed that his throat was a bit constricted. He coughed a bit. "Yeah?"

"Are you okay?" Mike appeared in his line of vision now. Clad in his tank top and his loose boxers, it was clear that he was already prepared for bed.

"I'm", he cleared his throat again, "I'm fine."

The breathy soft tone indicated otherwise.

Frowning, Mike leaned away for a moment and grabbed something from the open window which acted as a divisor between the foyer and the living room. The warm, flowery scent of bergamot tea immediately filled the room. Making grabby hands for the mug, Kurt completely ignored the amused look Mike gave him.

"Mmm", he hummed contentedly, each of his features relaxing. "Thanks Mike."

Mike saluted him. "Don't wrinkle your face for some asshole of a guy you haven't even met."

Kurt could only give him a small smile in response. He bid him another _'thank you'_ and a _'goodnight, Mike'_.

"Goodnight Kurt", Mike nodded at him. "And if this guy makes you cry, well. I'm the leader of an internet gang."

That got a chuckle out of the fragile figure, currently hunched in front of the monitor.

A series of _'dings'_, which he had not heard that past moment, alerted him of a spam of messages.

His eyes widened as he tried to set his mug down to calm his trembling hands.

* * *

_**i3philcollins: **__fuck Keith. Look im sorry_

_**i3philcollins: **__im being an A+ douchebag rn_

_**i3philcollins: **__Keith?_

_Last Message was received on 09/10/19 on 09: 59: 01 PM_

_**i3philcollins: **__keith? babe? look im sorry im sorry im really sorry_

_**i3philcollins: **__please answer come on dude_

_**i3philcollins: **__you told me that you've been wiaitng for this_

_**i3philcollins: **__the whole fucking day why arent you answering_

_**i3philcollins: **__whatever im going to spam you with messages_

_**i3philcollins: **__im pretty damn persistent ill have u kno_

_**i3philcollins: **__you're really fucking testing me arent you_

_**i3philcollins: **__dude look im really sorry okay_

_**i3philcollins: **__it was...its just been a long day_

_**i3philcollins: **__and you know why i even went to a fucking chatroom_

_**i3philcollins: **__in the first place right?_

_**i3philcollins: **__and okay fuck _

_**i3philcollins: **__since we've started...talking_

_**i3philcollins: **__i can't..._

_**i3philcollins: **__...it's just i...i can't..._

_Last Message was received on 09/10/19 on 10: 31: 24 PM_

* * *

Sebastian waited in bated breath.

_God, _he thought, _I hope this works._

He wasn't going to be another asshole who'd intentionally hurt another person just because they were having an off day.

No, not anymore. He graduated from that already.

Plus..._'Keith'_...He'd been there for a long time already.

Come to think of it, they've been talking for two and a half years.

_'__**tinydanceer: **__"i can't..." what?'_

A triumphant grin soon curled on his lips.

Hook. Line. Sinker.

* * *

_**i3philcollins: **__HA! got you_

_**tinydanceer: **__fuck you nate if youre going to be an asshole abotu this_

_**tinydanceer: **__it'd be better if i just went offline now wouldnt it_

_**i3philcollins: **__look okay okay_

_**i3philcollins: **__im sorry im really really sorry K_

_**tinydanceer: **__u think this is fucking funny_

_**tinydanceer: **__you think this is all some_

_**tinydanceer: **__joke to you is it_

_**i3philcollins: **__no no babe okay fuck shit_

_**i3philcollins: **__im the worlds douchiest asshole jerk okay? im fucking sorry_

_Last Message was received on 09/10/19 on 11: 23: 00 PM_

_**i3philcollins: **__babe?_

_**i3philcollins: **__ur still OL i could see you_

_**tinydanceer: **__sure_

_Last Message was received on 09/10/19 on 11: 25: 40 PM_

_**i3philcollins: **__oh shit youre actually crying arent you_

_**i3philcollins: **__keith?_

_**tinydanceer: **__youre making me hate phil collins now you asshole_

_**i3philcollins: **__:))_

_**tinydanceer: **__stop laughing this isnt funny you prick_

_**i3philcollins: **__(hug)_

_**tinydanceer: **__im still mad at you_

_**i3philcollins: **__i know_

_**i3philcollins: **__and im sorry_

_**i3philcollins: **__and i was going to say that..._

_**i3philcollins: **__i cant go to sleep not until_

_**i3philcollins: **__ive talked to you_

_**tinydanceer: **__nice to know im a very stimulating person to talk to_

_**i3philcollins: **__dammit keith stop twisting my words_

_**i3philcollins: **__i can here the sarcasm three thousand miles away_

_**i3philcollins: **__hear* goddamned typo_

_**i3philcollins: **__i want to talk to you before i sleep_

_**i3philcollins: **__because i want you to be the last person i think about_

_**i3philcollins: **__so i end up dreaming of you_

_**i3philcollins: **__there i fucking said it_

_**i3philcollins: **__i wont ever repeat it again_

_**i3philcollins: **__god that was sappy *shivers*_

_**3philcollins: **__i need crying babies and violent movies to flush _

_**i3philcollins: **__that one out_

* * *

For the second time that night, Kurt froze.

His mug was on his table, a few inches away from the monitor. It was already cold, obviously forgotten. Around two to three unfinished folders to go through were stacked inside an organizing file holder.

Kurt read the lines repeatedly. He was making sure that none of those were the figments of his imagination.

Huh. They were real.

Lightly touching the screen with his fingertips, he slowly dragged his index finger to trace each word that _'Nate'_ told him.

He felt his heart stutter at the thought.

* * *

_'__**i3philcollins:**__ you okay cheesecake?'_

Kurt smiled.

_**tinydanceer: **__too late. already screencaptured that bit_

_**i3philcollins: **__u little minx_

_**tinydanceer: **__;)_

_**tinydanceer: **__ill have it framed and put it on my wall_

_**tinydanceer: **__for good luck of course_

_**i3philcollins: **__:) you dont need good luck_

_**tinydanceer: **__oh? and whys that?_

_**i3philcollins: **__because you *are* good luck_

_**i3philcollins: **__duh_

_**i3philcollins: **__:) :) :)_

* * *

Sebastian wanted to hit his head against the brick wall repeatedly.

What the fuck was he saying anyway? Was it the wine? Sebastian glanced at the wine bottle. It had been 3/4 empty for awhile now. He had been too lazy to finish the whole bottle. And he knew that it was practically the _ninth _circle for him to go to work without any sleep, and with a hangover to boot.

The fire dying out was his first clue. The second one was the slowly filling of the light in the room. It did not help at all that he had huge window panes.

He glanced at the computer clock.

_05: 38 AM_

"Shit."

* * *

_**tinydanceer: **__smooth talker. 3_

_**i3philcollins: **__shut up_

_**tinydanceer: **__u should go get some sleep now...if you want_

_**tinydanceer: **__i just dont want you overexerting yourself_

_**tinydanceer: **__and falling dead on your feet_

_**i3philcollins: **__woah hey there slow down cowboy_

_**tinydanceer: **__because of me_

_**i3philcollins: **__but i wanted to talk to you_

_**tinydanceer: **__not at your health's expense_

_**i3philcollins: **__*pouts*_

_**tinydanceer: **__oh fine you big baby_

_**tinydanceer: **__i guess we should compromise the time instead_

_**tinydanceer: **__ill just email you xx_

_**i3philcollins: **__what thats it?_

* * *

Kurt was grinning widely, ignoring the insisting ache on his jaw.

That was until he noticed the shadow looming over him.

He jumped right out of his seat, like a fish out of water. Panicking, he grabbed something nearest to him, the mug, which was thankfully empty, as he aimed at the—

"_Jesus Christ _Kurt", the floor lamp was switched on, "it's only me."

Mike's face appeared, revealing his defensive stance and his raised hands a gesture to calm Kurt down.

"Oh god Mike", he placed his hand over his chest. "You scared me."

Mike snorted, like it was the understatement of the century.

"What're you doing here?" Kurt warily asked as he placed the mug back down the table. He sat down the office chair and rearranged his glasses, which had been skewed.

He gestured at the computer with his head. "I was going to the bathroom when I saw that there was a blue light coming from the foyer. Figured you were still up."

"Sorry about that", he hated being a bother. Really, he did.

"Don't you still have the job rotation thing and the second batch screening tomorrow morning?"

"Oh shit, you're right—"

_'__**i3philcollins: **__helllooooooooooo'_

Mike snickered. Kurt glared at him.

"Okay, I'm out of here...Before you get the idea to throw stuff at me again."

* * *

_**tinydanceer: **__sorry about that roommate scared me to death_

_**tinydanceer: **__almost threw my mug at him_

_**i3philcollins: **__him?_

_**tinydanceer: **__really? thats all your getting at? _

_**tinydanceer: **__im so unimpressed._

_**i3philcollins: **__sorry sorry_

_**tinydanceer: **__boys and their one tracked mind honestly_

_**i3philcollins: **__sing me a lullaby and ill shut up and go to sleep_

_**tinydanceer: **__i would :) but i dont have your number_

_**i3philcollins: **__webcam?_

_**tinydanceer: **__not ready for that jelly. _

_**tinydanceer: **__baby steps_

_**i3philcollins: **__point. well_

_**i3pilcollins: **__what would you sing to me if you would..._

_**i3philcollins:**__ you know?_

_**tinydanceer: **__ Hold me closer tiny dancer..._

_**i3philcollins: **__no way fuckng seriously?_

_**tinydanceer: **__and you should sing You'll Be In My Heart to me_

_**i3philcollins: **__out of all his songs_

_**i3philcollins: **__why that one?_

_**tinydanceer: **__i love Tarzan_

_**i3philcollins: **__seriously?_

_**tinydanceer: **__i love me some wild man_

_**i3philcollins: **__?_

_**tinydanceer: **__i just like it wtf do you want some profound answer_

_**tinydanceer: **__do you want me to say that my mom used to_

_**tinydanceer: **__sing that to me whenever i was sad_

_**tinydanceer: **__especially when i get scared during thunderstorms?_

_**tinydanceer: **__and that i still listen to it today?_

_**tinydanceer: **__was that the kind of answer you were looking for?_

* * *

Sebastian frowned at his computer.

Seriously, after a week of short chatting, and barely responded e-mails, in a span of 4 hours he had managed to get the person he's talking to to want to rip his head off and feed it to the dogs for about a grand total of three times now.

It was some kind of sick sadistic yet simultaneously masochistic hobby.

_**i3philcollins: **__im sorry (hug) i suck rn im so sorry_

_**tinydanceer: **__no sorry its the stress_

_**i3philcollins: **__you too huh?_

_**tinydanceer: **__yeah busy day tomorrow_

_**tinydanceer: **__i mean later_

_**i3philcollins: **__try going to work at 07: 30 AM later_

_**tinydanceer: **__you should sleep now then! you _

_**tinydanceer: **__have still some time to rest! come on!_

_**i3philcollins: **__fine mail me later?_

_**i3philcollins: **__let me know how your day goes okay?_

_**i3philcollins: **__and im really sorry for being a stupid jerk okay_

_**tinydanceer: **__yes yes_

_**tinydanceer: **__idont think we'd be chatting anytime soon_

_**tinydanceer: **__use your free time to sleep okay?_

_**tinydanceer: **__take care of yourself_

_**tinydanceer: **__im worried about you_

_**i3philcollins: **__goodnight_

_**tinydanceer: **__goodnight_

_**i3philcollins: **__goodmorning! :D_

_**tinydanceer: **__goodmorning! xx_

_**i3philcollins: **__going offline now_

_**i3philcollins: **__i'll miss you_

_**tinydanceer: **__ill miss you too_

_**tinydanceer: **__sweet dreams_

_**i3philcollins: **__only if youre in it_

_**tinydanceer: **__:" xx_

* * *

_'__**i3philcollins**__ is OFFLINE.'_

Kurt couldn't help but smile as he exited his Skype messenger. He briefly scanned through his e-mails if there were any new developments. Seeing as there were none, he automatically logged off and turned off the computer. Leaning back the office chair, he tiredly removed his eyeglasses and threw it on the table.

Exhausted, he glanced at the time.

_12: 38 AM_

He was needed at the office as early as 06:00 AM sharp to help finalize the second screening for the job applicants. In the afternoon, he would be working on the finalization of the new employees that were picked for the semestral job rotation.

Despite that he would have less than 4 hours of sleep, Kurt couldn't stop the grin from taking over his face.

* * *

Sebastian woke to the sound of ringing.

It was then that he only realized that it was the alarm, which he had set up a few minutes ago, blaring from his phone. Groaning against the armrest, he uncomfortably shifted to his stomach to lazily get the damn phone.

Firmly pressing a button, the alarm _finally _stopped.

Only, Sebastian was completely awake.

He let out a loud grunt, thankfully muffled by the couch pillow. Sluggishly, he raised his phone to check the time.

_06: 45 AM_

Great. A fucking 15-minute power nap.

But he had to get up. Carpool was coming around at exactly 07: 15 AM. In which it had clearly meant that he would have approximately 30 minutes to clean himself up, at least put the fucking trash away, and then finish reading the rest of the folders in the period between travelling from home to work.

He had two meetings to sit-in today. There was a court hearing in which he needed to go to assist his Senior Partner (as apparently this was a big case). And there was the deadline of passing the documents for the pro bono case he was working on right now.

It was his 5th case.

Not that he enjoyed solving cases without any monetary exchange.

Not that he needed said money.

Shit.

He wasn't going to survive today, was he?

* * *

**A/N: **that was long omg well not really long but the chat parts took a lot of time. Next part would be up sometime this week. And...I'm trying to keep this fic as _realistic _as possible so if that bores you out then, I apologize.


End file.
